“Cause I know I don’t understand just how your love can do what no one else can. Got me lookn’ so crazy right now, your love got me lookin’ so crazy right now.”
Can we talk about the fact that this song define so much their relationship? Anyway, I really tried to draw bum in my art style but Koogi way to draw him is way much better than anything in this world <3
ye chapter 19 had some effect on me
Please, do not repost my art. Ask first, I don’t bite
Putting some of the things that humans do into words makes them sound weird. (made with @samlicker83 )
“Sometimes dirt gets trapped under our skin and shoots out like rockets after a couple of days.”
“We ride around in giant pieces of shaped metal and leather on wheels that we have to fill with decomposed liquidized dead things to keep it running.”
“Sometimes dust particles tickles these hairs in our nose and our nose becomes a snot canon.”
“We kill baby sheep to please the sky beings that keep our crops good”
“We cut out the genitalia of animals and others sometimes and require a lot of small pieces of green paper or invisible data points to do so.” “Why the fuck-” “For our own benefit and theirs.”
“Sometimes squishy flesh rocks form inside of us and slowly kill us.”
“Our young enjoy activities such as: climbing, playing, and fucking”
“We use plastic molds of other people’s genitals to please ourselves even though there is no advantage of doing so.”
“Some of them write stories about two humans of the same gender fucking and show it to many others to gather a following. They write the stories mainly for an audience who thinks the two people in the story should become mates for life.”
“We heat up sand and look out of it instead of going outside.”
“Sometimes we reproduce while others make a permanent record of it for others to see it. That’s a job for a lot of humans.”
“Having sex with the same gender is consider wrong until the words ‘no homo bro’ are said. Then everything is completely normal in societies eyes.”
“The females of our race bleed from their genitals annually and experience unsatiable hunger, rage, and stabbing pains in their bodies while that happens.”
44. “You need to see a doctor.”
80. “Does he know about the baby?”
You’re in the middle of puking your guts up when your best friend speaks up.
“You need to see a doctor,” Jaehyun says. You pull back from the toilet and look at him, letting him wipe your lips where some throw up had managed to stick.
“What do I need a doctor to tell me, Jaehyun? “Oh, you’re pregnant!” I already fucking know.” Another round of throw up comes up and you put your head back over the toilet, tears welling up in your eyes as you continue on.
When you finish, Jaehyun talks again.
“Does he know about the baby?” You wipe at your tears and shake your head.
“No, and I’m not telling him. He has other things to worry about.”
A creature that terrorized livestock in Cumberland, England, in 1810. The creature was said to be tan in color, with stripes running down its back and witnesses claimed that it had the features of both a canine and feline. It was ultimately thought that this could have been a thylacine that had escaped from a traveling circus. The beast was said to have slain more than 300 sheep - interestingly enough, scientists now claim that a single thylacine would be capable of killing a sheep. The strange beast was killed and was stuffed but in the 1950s, a museum curator decided it had become too moth-eaten and threw it out. The legend of the Girt Dog of Ennerdale still goes on even though the body is gone.
He could smell the malice and charm coming off of the sycophants of the Queen’s court. He was disgusted with his family for forging such alliances with the sadistic female. Tamlin..Tamlin was better than this, better than the sadistic savagery of these fae who delighted in murdering innocent fae.
His brothers stood by Amaratha’s throne. Their smug smiles full of court-trained malice. Lucien faced down his brothers, the same brothers who murdered his Amata in front of him, and the queen with his chin high and defiance in his eyes, “I am the emissary for the High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court, Lucien, formerly of the Autumn Court. Tamlin wishes to forge peace, he does not want a war, but he does not accept your proposal.” He would have snorted at the forced politeness he made himself master. She didn’t deserve the respect.
She leaned back in her throne, rubbing her finger across her ring, Jurian’s eye, her eyes flashed rage but she clicked her tongue, “Look at you, Lucien. Little more than a lapdog, doing its owner’s wishes. Tell your master that I reject his proposition,” Her ruby lips stretched into a seductive smile. He could barely keep the disgust off his face as she purred, “But mine is still open.”
His friend wasn’t some stud for her to get off on. His temper snapped and he spat, ‘Climb your way back into the shit-hole you came out of Amaratha. No one wants you here. I don’t, the High Lords don’t,” he looked down at her, “Tamlin sure as fuck doesn’t.”
The second he said that he wished he never opened his mouth. It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it.
Her black eyes blazed as she jerked her chin. Before he could move against her, before he could protect himself, his brothers descended upon him. Grabbing his arms, forcing him to his knees. Eris whispered into his ear, “Perhaps now you will see Amata again, little brother.”
Amata’s screams deafened him. He could still hear her and still feel the helplessness of not being able to save his lost love. He would see her again-
No. No. She would want him to fight, to go down fighting.
He thrashed against his brothers. His bones cried out from fighting against them. His shoulders were nearly out of their sockets as he thrashed. His hair covered his face as he bucked forward and backwards, trying to get out of their grips. His back was sticking to his tunic from the sweat. They hunkered down, and his bones cried out in pain, his growls echoed against the walls around him as he barked, “Let me fucking go. I’ll kill you. I swear on the Cauldron, the Mother. Let me go. I will fucking kill you.”
When Amaratha rose, her own red hair braided into her crown. He knew he was going to die.
Amata, I’m so sorry. I tried to fight. I tried to fight for you-
She took slow deliberate steps to him, Her gown sweeping across the floor. His heart pounded through his ears. He thrashed harder. He needed to get away. He needed to keep fighting. He- Tamlin. This would start a war. If she killed his Second, his Emissary. It would start a war.
“Tamlin will destroy you,” he spat, “Go on. Kill me. Tamlin will kill you like the sheep you are. You call yourself Queen? You are the King of Hybern’s lacky, you bitch.” He laughed ruefully, “If you kill me, you are done for. My death would start a war,” he couldn’t keep the mock out of his voice, “Tamlin will never love you.”
Ire flashed in her eyes but she tilted her head and clicked her tongue and knelt down, her black eyes meeting his, taking his face into her cold, slender fingers, “It would seem you are right. I do not need war,” She smiled, his blood froze, “However. I will not be insulted.”
She caressed the skin beneath his left eye. His eyes darted between her cruel smile and her fingers, to Jurian’s whirling wild eye. No, no. His eye. She was going to take his eye. The bitch was going to take-
He jerked back, trying to shake his face away from her hands. His brothers’ tightened their grips around his shoulders and forearms. His bones, his tissue, his blood cried out in pain. Sweat coated his skin as he kept fighting against them.
She took his face into his hand, locking it into place between her slender fingers, she said coldly, “You do not need two eyes to see, Lucien.”
His screams echoed off the walls as her nail dug just below the eyelid, scooping back behind his eye. Not once had he ever thought about the importance of his eyes, how much he relied on them. How much he needed them.
Blind piercing pain blasted through his eye socket. The pressure of her nail digging under his eye, blood ran and tears ran down his face as her smile grew, his brothers laughed.
With a sickening pop she pulled his eye out. He felt a hollowness where his eye had just been. Blood was pouring, pouring out of the hole in a gush, leaving his head so light. So very, very light.
He was forced to watch as Amarantha examined his removed eye, she said lightly, “Such a pretty color, Lucien. This russet,” her gaze darkened as she looked back at him, saying coldly, “The next time you decide to insult me in my own court it will be more than your eye that gets taken from you.”
Her fingers clenched his eye into a fist, squeezing it, crushing it. A sickening squishing sound came from between her fingers. Opening them, she ran what remained of his eye across his face, leaving a trail of cool stickiness in it’s wake. He vomited.
Blood still poured steadily from his face as she stepped back, disgusted, “No. Not enough.” Enough what? Enough pain. Enough punishment. He froze on his knees, panting heavily.
He nearly whimpered, “Stop. Stop.” He hated himself for it.
Amarantha looked past him, to his brothers, “I’m sure you would like some quality time with your brother before he is sent home. You are dismissed for some…family quality time.”
No. No. He heard Amata’s screams in his ears, saw her dead eyes looking back at him. He could almost hear her begging. His brothers butchered her. Now they were going to butcher him.
He steeled his spine before his brothers winnowed him to a dark, dank cell. He wouldn’t break.
He flashed in and out of consciousness.
The pain was unbearable. He remembered flashes of Eris’s eyes and Freis’s cruel grin. Talons clawed down his face, joints popped out of places, bones shattered. Taunts and jeers, lies and cruel truths.
Tamlin. Tamlin would come. He would save him. He was his High Lord, his friend. They would all pay when his friend came.
He saw darkness.
He screamed when they re-broke his bones.
Healing, rebreaking, healing rebreaking.
He would come. He would be here. He would come because he was his friend.
His brothers’ laughs echoed off of the cell walls.
Lucien blacked out.
Where was he?
He stopped hoping.
Days. Weeks. Eternity.
He was blacked out from the pain when he heard the command, “Leave him in the Spring Court where Dearest Tamlin can find him.”
Lucien should have been back by now. He had sent Lucien to Amaratha’s court weeks ago. To forge peace.
Tamlin waited for his emissary, he better have a good reason for this. For his absence. His worry. He couldn’t fight the stone of worry in his gut.
He looked out the windows at his mother’s garden when Alis ran up to him, urgency filled his voice as “High Lord! You must come!”
“What’s wrong?” he snapped.
Alis’s throat bobbed, “It’s Lucien. He’s back.”
By her tone, his blood roared as he ran.
Lucien was splayed near broken in the grass, the sun scorched down on his emissary. Dried blood stained his ragged clothes. Tamlin leaned down, getting a better look at Lucien’s half unconscious state.
Lucien’s voice was raw from screaming, most likely, and broken when he near-whimpered, “Where were you? Where was my High Lord? Where was my friend?”
The sight of all the blood. The smell of decayed flesh. The disgust, the guilt, Tamlin threw up his guts.
lmfao just saw the most ridiculous debate on tv. there’s been a debate for the past 40 years on whether norway should shoot wolves or let them live. agrarian parties dont want em to live cuz “they kill sheep” and “represent a threat to the countryside municipalities”. One of their arguments were that after a DNA test, they found that these wolves were of russian/ukrainian/belarusian origin, and not natural born scandinavian wolves. so a “russian wolf” has no business crossing the border to norway. RUSSIAN WOLF. BORDER.
In 1983, a farmer from South Molton, England claimed to have lost over 100 sheep to the creature known as the Beast of Exmoor. All the sheep were killed in the span of 3 months and died to injuries to their throats. After these incidents, the Ministry of Agriculture ordered the Royal Marines to send a number of snipers to the location. Although the snipers claimed to have seen the Beast a number of times, no shots were fired out of fear that their high-powered artillery would pass through the creature’s body and injure humans or livestock.
We all are familiar with the animals that we live around. For some of us it’s squirrels and rabbits, for others it’s bears or wolves. But in the United Kingdom, the last thing you’d expect would be panthers right? Well according to many encounters, photos, and even attacks, panthers and other big cats are believed to roam the English countryside.
Many of these wild cats are assumed to be the result of the Dangerous Wild Animals Act of 1976 which resulted in many owners of exotic animals releasing their pets into the wild. The famous circus owner Mary Chipperfield admitted to releasing three pumas free into the forests of Dartmoor in 1978 after her zoo was forced to shut down. Many of these cats have been killed or captured throughout the years, such as in 1980 a puma was captured, in 1989 one was hit by a car, in 1991 a lynx was shot which had killed 15 sheep in the two weeks prior to its death. An ocelot was shot in 1994, in 1993 a puma was captured in Scotland, in 1996 a caracal was shot, and in 2001 a lynx was captured. In 1988 Royal Marines were sent to hunt big cats who were killing livestock, but they were unable to make a successful kill. Aside from capturing and killing many photos and videos can be found around the internet of phantom cats. In 2000 an 11 year old boy was attacked by a large “black cat” which left 5 claw marks across his face. In 2005 another man was attacked which left him severely wounded. In the summer of 2012 in Essex, a lion was spotted roaming the area. And several other witnesses claim to have heard lion roars in the area.
There is no doubt that there are exotic cats roaming the U.K. but could these numbers be rising? And could more of them continue to be released into the wild? Or perhaps enough have been released that a breeding population has been established. Let me know your thoughts, stay curious.
Roaming the town of Kellas, Scotland was said to be an enormous cat, much larger than any house cat. It measured in at 20 - 30 inches long with a tail of 12 inches long and had extremely powerful hind legs. The Kellas Cat (or cats, as many were eventually snared and killed) was blamed for killing local sheep and other livestock.
The Kellas Cat ended up being identified as a strange new hybrid of wild and domestic house cat. The first few sightings of this feline were brushed off as a hoax until some were captured. The first cat was killed in 1983 (the above photo) and was stuffed. This cat is a male and measured 42 inches long from nose to the tip of the tail; it currently resides at the Elgin Museum in Scotland. The most recent Kellas Cat to be killed was in 2002.
Ahaha well. I used to crawl my fingers through my sheepskin and make a sort of clicking noise inside my mouth, I guess? As soon as I was old enough to realize how weird that was I stopped making the noise when around other people. Apparently my mom got baby-me the sheepskin bc I cried a lot at night, and it seemed to help. I don’t sleep with the sheepskin anymore bc it can’t be washed and slowly falls apart over time (at some point the original one needed to be replaced with a new one and that was like, the worst thing ever), but I still need a fluffy blanket to sleep, it just doesn’t feel right without.
Fair warning, the picture PETA published, which I will be including, is gory and bloody.
So here we go.
A few weeks ago, I first saw this PETA campaign picture:
As someone who works with sheep and shears sheep to pay for extra expenses, I was outraged. I had no clue what they did to that poor lamb (Found out its a foam replica). Besides the fact that it looks too small to shear, it looks like someone took a chain saw to it, or it was skinned not sheared.
So I wanted to address this. In shearing a sheep, goat, cow, or pig, you do not want to cut the animal. If its done right, you will not cut the animal. I know its hard not to let nicks happen. Animals move, jump, and flinch. Most shearers take very good care of their animals. If I, for example as a shearer, cut up the sheep I’ve been assigned to shear to the point where they have open and bleeding cuts, I would not be asked back. I would not have another job. Word gets around fast about shearers that hurt and cut up the sheep. Several years ago, there was a group of guys that sheared sheep for the members of the local herding dog club. They mishandled sheep and just moved speedily through them, leaving ewes bloody and stressed. You wanna know what happened to that group? They’re no longer in business. They don’t shear because word got around that they mishandled the animals.
I will say, shearing sheep is a tiring job that will leave you sore at the end of the day, no matter if you do one sheep or one hundred. I only average 3-6 sheep a day, so I have to give it to any shearer that shears whole herds in a day, from 30-100. Its hard work, but they do a good job.
Shearing, in its process, is simple. You restrain the sheep, either by setting it on its rear off its feet or tying it to the fence. You have to restrain the sheep or you could injure it if it tries to run or squirm. You then use a set of shears, manual or electric, to shave off the hair. Its just like how we shave, but we use a razor. Sheep are not hurt, and the process can be from a few minutes to an hour (like me). Shearers are paid by the quantity of sheep (usually) not the hours of work. This means that the shearers can spend the time to make sure the sheep get sheared right.
Below, I’m posting some pictures of what sheep really look like after they’ve been sheared:
These are from two different herds that I helped with this past spring. It was a relief for these sheep to be sheared.
But why do we shear sheep?
We sheer sheep for a variety of reasons. For the number one reason, its to remove the hair from the sheep. Sheep started as being used for wool and meat. Early sheep farmers cut off the sheep’s wool to be used for clothing, bedding, and other clothe items that came with eating the sheep too.
Now, farms that raise sheep for anything but wool or hair production, we shear the sheep to keep them comfortable. Where I’m from and where I go to college now, its not unusual for temperatures to be over 100 degrees F for the majority of the day, sheep with a full coat of wool/hair are miserable! It can also be deadly. They can’t cool down like they should and are very susceptible to over heating and heat stroke. That’s why we shear in the spring, before it gets too hot. It also allows the sheep to grow a little bit of wool back to act as sunscreen. We also shear off the wool/hair yearly to keep sheep clean. As sheep poop and pee, it gets on their wool/hair. As their wool/hair grows, it can cover up the sheep’s back end, and eventually, the anus of the sheep. That will make it very easy for bacteria to get back up into the sheep’s body and make them sick or even kill them.
So in conclusion, this sums up my point:
Shearing the sheep doesn’t hurt it. It certainly doesn’t kill the sheep. Its actually beneficial for the sheep to be sheared.